The Simpsons

Ow!

Oh, for the love of absolutely nothing, Toot.

Keep it down!

You're disturbing my customers!

Start the board meeting without me.

Oops.

Is my new Kawabashi Leaf Ninja set in show-off mode?

That's 500 CCs just champing at the bit.

Ow!

My black-market cochlear implant!

Now let me blow something else.

Your mind.

Ow! My black market LASIK surgery!

The youth hockey team that I sponsor and coach

won the championship this year.

Trophies are what they give to winners, when they win.

F. Y. I.

Okay, stuff like this is why Gayle left you.

No one knows why Gayle left me,

except for Gayle and my more-handsome brother.

But don't let my success get to you, Moe.

Remember, just because something good happens to me,

you're a giant loser.

Anyway, just something for you to stew on.

Right. Sure I am. Me, stew. No way.

Not stew, not me. No stew.

Hey, Stu.

Me, stew?

I ain't spending one second replaying my failures.

Like how I don't got no money, I got no education.

My mattress is a pallet of flyers

I was supposed to deliver.

How I was invited to five different dinners

for schmucks in one week.

I only got one lightbulb,

which I got to take from room to room.

How every sex cult I join turns into a suicide cult.

I'm a speck. No, I'm-I'm less than a speck.

I'm nothing but, uh... I'm a scuzz.

Moe, what gives?

You've been dwelling on your failures for ten months.

Why didn't you stop me?

'Cause then we'd have to touch your shoulder.

Soccer season is over.

The conquering participant returns.

Congratulations, sweetie.

I know how hard you strived to participate.

It wasn't easy, but I did the bare minimum.

Thanks for driving me to games every Saturday, Dad.

Well, I knew it wouldn't last forever.

And now, with soccer season over,

sitting season...

begins.

Homer, get up.

Bart's first junior hockey game is today.

But-but kids' sports was over!

It's great father-son bonding.

No. It's me driving while Bart looks at his phone.

Then it's Bart playing while I look at my phone.

Then me driving home while we both look at our phones.

That's what kids' sports is.

Can I have some money to bet on the games?

Okay, diapers.

I'm gonna tell you something

no coach ever had the heart to say to his players.

You are only here to fix my emotional problems.

Yeah!

We're 20 games away from me getting a trophy

and six payments away from me owning this whistle.

Now, you all know the game plan.

We suck except Bart, so give him the stupid puck

and then shut our stupid mouths, you stupid pukes.

Yeah, good job, uh, kid who ain't Bart.

Now let's go watch Bart do this!

Oh, you're so done, Toot.

Ow, ow, ow, ow, ouch...

Oops. My biggest guy took out your scorer.

Hey, feel free to retaliate with your biggest kid.

Hmm.

Put me in, Coach. I'll rip him limb from limb.

Let me at him.

The net ate my hockey cookie.

Wha...

Oh, thank heavens. An adult has arrived to help me.

No, no, no. I'm just here to observe.

Uh, how would you like to play hockey?

Haw-haw... key?

It's the most messed-up sport in the world.

It's like a prison riot but with less rules.

And you, you would play the best position of all...

The goon.

Goon...

Pretty word.

What it mean?

It's that sweet spot between a thug and an enforcer.

Anyone who comes near the best players on the team,

the goon turns their face into mustard.

You're exactly what my team needs.

Team? I don't do teams.

Sorry.

Not my pierogies!

My Oma makes them but once a week.

I got to deal with this.

Nah, I get it.

People look at scuzzes like us like we got the plague.

Which, when I did, it weren't even bubonic.

Our schedule, in case you change your mind, there.

Maybe we'll both find out

what it feels like to be winners.

Hmm. Hmm. Hmm. Hmm.

Full steam ahead, lads.

We make for the goal,

and damn their neutral zone trap.

Oh, another weekend murdered by kids' sports.

How come this is the only league in the world

without a labor dispute?

Unionize, cowards!

Yarr!

I'm getting killed out there!

So you get a little dinged up.

You ever seen the children's wing at the hospital?

They got murals on the walls. You'll love it.

Everywhere you look... Rainbow, rainbow, rainbow.

The whole league knows all they have to do

is beat me up and they win.

Yeah, you're right, it's hopeless.

There ain't nobody who's gonna walk into this rink

and turn me into a winner.

No how, no when.

Did somebody order a psycho?

Oh.

Where do you want me, Crotch?

Uh, it-it's "coach." But just get out there.

Get out there and do your thing.

- We won! - We did it!

Oh, my gosh!

My life has meaning!

As I've been screaming for the last 15 minutes,

- all players must be wearing skates. - Oh, come on.

There's no way that that...

Oh, there it is.

Rule number one: "No cafeteria trays."

The Bar Flyers forfeit. The game is over.

Aw!

You said I'd get to win.

All I did was make everyone else a loser, too.

Loser? No, no, you-you were amazing out there.

- I was? - Kid, you are a natural born goon.

A real diamond in the urinal. All you need is some training.

And I'm gonna make sure that you learn from the best.

Welcome to Top Goon.

It's beautiful.

I'm gonna learn so hard, Moe.

- I won't let you down. - I know you won't, kid.

- What was that? - Oh, I just tousled your hair.

Ain't nobody ever done that before?

Uh..

Keep going.

Yeah, my arm's getting a little tired, here.

- That's your problem. - All right.

Welcome to Top Goon.

I'd like to introduce you to your faculty,

the most feared men to ever lace 'em up.

Dave "The Hammer" Schultz.

That's just a nickname.

My given name is David "The Hammer" Schultz.

Stu "The Grim Reaper" Grimson.

I look sane, but trust me, I'm not.

You'll see.

You'll all see.

And Tiger Williams.

Your instructor for Basic Pummeling

and, time permitting,

The American Novel: 1930 to the Present.

As a goon, you have one job on the ice:

Protect your team's best scorer.

We call that person your "primary."

This is the most important person in your life.

Who's the best scorer on your team, Muntz?

- Bart Simpson. - Then Bart Simpson is your primary.

Don't forget it.

- Who do we protect? - Our primary.

And what do we do for our primary?

Protect them.

And who do we protect?

Our primary?

This kid's good.

"The Hockey Song" by Stompin' Tom Connors playing...

Mm...

Aw...

Huh?

Hey, sorry I'm late.

I couldn't unlock the Maps app.

My phone don't recognize my face as a face.

I can't believe you came!

I wouldn't miss this for my own mother's funeral.

I made that choice and I'm good with it.

Hey, Moe. How's it going?

You know these guys?

I used to be the bartender in the penalty box